


Night and Day

by Gerec



Series: Rentboy AU [2]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men: Apocalypse, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Infidelity, M/M, Mentions of Prostitution, Past Underage, Reunion Sex, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-24 09:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6149313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor gets Logan a job that sounds too good to be true - get paid to drive some rich guy’s young boyfriend around and be at his beck and call. Easy right? Logan certainly thinks so.</p><p>That is until he meets his new charge, and comes face to face with the last person he ever expected to see again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Easy Money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan meets his new boss, Sal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Part 2 of my Rentboy AU, and takes place six years after the end of **[Strangers in the Night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6085584)**

_Night and day, you are the one_  
_Only you ‘neath the moon or under the sun_  
_Whether near to me or far_  
_It’s no matter, darling, where you are_  
_I think of you day and night_

*

   
“Got a job for you, if you’re interested,” Victor says, as he waves the bartender over for a refill. “It’s easy and the pay’s good, but you gotta put up with rich assholes. What do you say?”

Logan takes a long swig from his beer bottle, and grimaces. He’s been out of work now for a month, and can’t afford to be off for much longer if he wants to eat _and_ keep his crap apartment. Normally, he’d stay far away from anything Victor considered ‘easy’, but desperate times will make a man agree to just about anything. “What is it?”

“Boss needs a new driver,” his brother answers, lip curling with disdain as he takes the fresh beers from the bartender and slides one over to Logan. “For his boy toy. Pretty little thing he’s keeping in his luxury penthouse. Buys the kid nice clothes and sends the kid to Columbia; gets his own whore 24/7. Not a bad deal all around.”

“You know I’m no good with people,” Logan snaps, deliberately ignoring Victor’s eye roll as he continues. “And I sure as hell won’t last taking orders from some punk with an attitude.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. You won’t have a problem with him.”

“What, he’s not a punk?”

Victor grins, the slow and menacing one that almost always used to mean trouble when they were growing up. “I mean, yeah he’s got some attitude but for the most part he’s polite and quiet.” And then the grin morphs into a leer as Victor leans a little closer. “You’d like him, Jimmy, he’s young. And pretty, with a tight little ass.  I can see why the boss keeps him around you know; kid’s got the nicest cock sucking lips I’ve ever seen. Man, what I wouldn’t give to get him on his hands and knees and--”

“Yeah, yeah I get it, you can shut up now,” Logan snarls, as Victor chuckles into his beer. “When do I start?”

“Come with me and meet the boss tomorrow. If he gives you the green light you start right away.”

Logan sighs. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Victor says with a shrug. “But it’s good money either way. And if you’re lucky…you might get a good show.”

“What the fuck does _that_ mean? Your boss some kind of pervert?”

Victor shakes his head and sighs, looking vaguely disappointed. “Ha, I wish. But he does like to dress the pretty boy toy up in tight clothes and take him on holidays where he lounges around in nothing but a barely there speedo. I’ve got enough wank material stored up for the next five years.”

“Jesus, Vic,” he snarls. “I don’t fucking need to hear that shit.”

But Victor just throws his head back and howls with laughter, before pulling a card out of his jacket pocket and scribbling an address on the back. “Meet me here tomorrow at 2 o’clock,” he says, shoving the card in Logan’s hand. “Boss is taking time off to take his bitch out to celebrate…something. I don’t know I wasn’t listening. Anyway, put on a fucking suit and comb your hair.”

“Fuck you,” he answers, which is his knee jerk response to pretty much anything Victor suggests. “Who cares about my fucking hair? He ain’t auditioning _me_ to be his whore.”

Victor snorts, but then his eyes narrow in warning. “I’m sticking my neck out for you here Jimmy, introducing you to my boss. Don’t fuck this up.”

He does know how much it means for Victor to do this, risking his own livelihood, having never been very good himself at holding down a decent job for long. And it does sound like good money for pretty easy work, and Logan’s never been too proud to take a job if it meant having a roof over his head and a hot meal.

“Don’t worry,” Logan says, finishing the last of his beer with a sigh. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

\----

Turns out he should have waited ‘til after the meeting, to make Victor that promise.

\-----

Logan shows up at the posh Manhattan address the next day, five minutes early and dressed in his best – and only –- suit with a borrowed tie. Victor is waiting for him in the lobby when he arrives, and promptly takes him up the private elevator to the penthouse floor, where the doors open to reveal a sea of polished oak and gleaming white marble.

They make their way from the vestibule into the living room and down the hall, and Logan already hates every antique and every overpriced luxury that makes up this veritable two storey mansion. Just one of the paintings on the wall probably cost more than he’s made in his entire lifetime, and he tries not to think too much about what _he_ would do with all that money; or the people – person – he could have helped.

He waits as Victor knocks on one of the doors at the end of the hall, and then follows him inside what he presumes to be the rich guy’s office. There’s a man sitting at the giant desk - handsome, with dark wavy hair and dark eyes in his early forties, Logan guesses - who promptly looks up from his paperwork when they enter and smiles.

“Ah Victor,” the man says as he stands, making his way around the desk to shake Logan’s hand. “And you must be Mr. Howlett. Victor has told me many good things about you.”

His first instinct is to snort, though he manages to bite that back and give the guy a brisk nod. “Good to meet you, sir.”

“There’s no need for that,” the guy admonishes good naturedly, still smiling as his eyes sweep over Logan from head to toe. “I’m En Sabah Nur, but you can call me Sal. Or Mr. Nur, if that makes you more comfortable.” He leans against the desk and folds his arms. “Did Victor tell you why you’re here?”

“He says you need a driver for your…,” Logan hesitates briefly, and swallows, “…associate.”

The guy throws his head back and laughs, which frankly unsettles Logan more than the ostentatious show of wealth. “I’m sure that’s not the word your brother used to describe him,” Mr. Nur – Sal – replies, eyes narrowing for just a moment as he glances at Victor standing beside him. “And you’ve already proven to be much more mannered and discreet than our Victor here when I first met him. Anyway, I am his…how do you say in America? His ‘sugar daddy’, I believe is the term?”

Beside him, Victor starts chuckling under his breath, but Logan just ignores him, along with the amused grin that blooms over Sal’s face. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Well then,” Sal continues, clapping his hands together before wandering back around to settle into his plush leather chair. “Now that we’ve explained exactly who ‘he’ is to me, let’s discuss what I need you to do for Charles.”

“Charles?” Logan asks, the name immediately conjuring memories of the boy he met, once upon a time in that dirty alley behind Jake’s.

“Yes, Charles,” Sal answers, soft and fond, and then turns the silver frame on his desk towards Logan, revealing a picture of himself with a much younger man in his arms, the two of them sitting on the deck of a luxury yacht. It’s a face that Logan has never forgotten, even after all these years, piercing blue eyes and the curve of those red, red lips. “Charles Xavier.”

For long moments he doesn’t answer, too stunned by the revelation that his charge-to-be is _Charles_ , the one he’s been missing since the day he disappeared from Logan’s life without a trace; the one Logan tells himself he’s not looking for, in every corner of every dingy bar, and every flash of blue eyes and dark hair.

“Yes,” he finally manages to say, ignoring the considering look on Sal’s face when Logan meets his eyes. “You were saying…about my duties?”

“Right, where to begin,” Sal murmurs, as he brushes his fingers lightly across the glass, before setting the picture frame back in its place. “I’ll be travelling to Europe and the Middle East for business over the next few weeks, and Victor will be coming along with me. I need someone here to look after Charles…don’t tell him I said that though, he doesn’t like to be coddled,” Sal chuckles. “I’d like someone to drive him to and from the university, and make sure he doesn’t forget to eat while he’s cramming for exams. You’re to do whatever he asks of you – whether it’s running errands or getting take-out at two in the morning. Anything he wants, he gets? Understand?”

It sounds _ridiculous_ , being paid to be at the beck and call of a rich man’s younger-by-decades boyfriend, and exactly the kind of bullshit Logan hates about the wealthy and over privileged. But the idea of seeing Charles again, and the fact that he’s getting low on cash, makes it easier to swallow his pride and say yes. “Yeah, whatever the kid wants. I get it.”

Sal grins, wry and amused, like he knows exactly what Logan thinks about the assignment that’s being handed to him. “I know what it sounds like Mr. Howlett—“

“Logan, please.”

“—Logan, yes. It sounds like a glorified babysitting job doesn’t it? I assure you, I’ll be paying you very handsomely to see to Charles’ every need.”

It sounds close enough to a ‘you’re hired’ so Logan answers with a simple, “Thank you.”

“I am also paying you to keep him safe,” Sal continues with a casual flick of his hand, “and away from anyone who might come looking for him while I’m away. Specifically his stepfather, Kurt Marko.”

“I didn’t--,” _know he had a stepfather_ , Logan starts to say, before he abruptly clamps his mouth shut, and then continues. “I mean, what does the stepfather want? Is he in some kind of danger? Shouldn’t we be involving the police if that’s the case?”

He can feel Sal’s eyes on him, and Logan doesn’t remember ever feeling so exposed, as though every thought and emotion he’s experiencing is laid plain for the man to dissect. Luckily, Victor manages to break the tension before it becomes uncomfortable, interrupting with a derisive snort.

Sal glances over at Victor and grins. “I think what your brother is trying to say is that Charles can take care of himself, and Marko is too much of a coward to try anything physical…now,” Sal explains, drumming his fingers slowly, almost rhythmically on his desk. “His sort of threat is all emotional, and psychological, and I don’t want that bastard anywhere near Charles.”

“So no stepfather. Got it. Anything else?”

But Sal doesn’t get a chance to answer, the sound of the front door slamming open interrupting their talk. Logan’s mouth is suddenly as dry as the desert, his heart pounding in his ears.

“ _Sal_?” A voice calls from the living room, a voice Logan _knows_ because he’s never forgotten the sound of it, like a whispered memory in the dark. “ _I’m home_!”

“In here!” Sal answers, his face splitting into a smile that’s almost painfully fond. He turns to Logan and claps his hands together again, obviously pleased. “Perfect! You can meet Charles, and if he likes you than you’re hired.”

The door swings open behind Logan, and Charles’ voice immediately fills the room. “Hi--oh, Victor! I’m sorry, am I interrupting?”

Logan can’t bring himself to turn around, desperate and dreading the moment both, not knowing what to expect or whether Charles even remembers him. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Charles walks right past him to greet Sal with a lingering kiss, and forces a blank expression on his face when the two men finally turn to acknowledge him.

“Charles,” Sal says, and Charles’ eyes go wide, his lips parting in - surprise? dismay? - as Logan offers his hand to shake. “This is Logan Howlett. Logan, meet Charles Xavier.”

 


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Logan have a heated reunion.

It’s there, for the briefest of moments; the flare of recognition written all over Charles’ face as he reaches automatically to shake Logan’s outstretched hand. But the moment passes as quickly as it comes, with Charles donning a polite smile and uninterested expression, his entire body going stiff before he leans against Sal and murmurs, “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Howlett.”

“Call me Logan,” he answers, but Charles is already glancing away, clearly determined to feign ignorance that the two know each other from a previous life. Given his relationship with the rich sugar daddy it’s not hard to understand, though Logan can’t help but feel the weight of disappointment sinking in his gut.

“Victor recommended Logan here,” Sal explains, and Charles rolls his eyes as soon as Victor’s name is mentioned, though he doesn’t interject, “to be your driver while I’m overseas. Why don’t you two chat and get to know each other? If you like him, I’ll have him start right away.”

“We talked about this, Sal. I told you I don’t need a babysitter. I can take the subway to and from the university like any other normal person.”

“Yes we _have_ talked about this,” Sal chides, though the words are spoken so indulgently that it hides none of the affection he obviously feels for his young lover. He reaches to pull him closer, tugging him by the hips, until Charles finally sighs and returns his smile. “And I told you I would feel much better if you have someone here looking out for you. Especially now that Marko knows where you are, and we’ve filed the lawsuit.”

The argument sounds rote, and Charles’ objections half-hearted, as though they’ve had the same conversation multiple times before. And it certainly seems like Sal is ready to move on from it, because he claps Victor on the shoulder then and starts guiding him towards the door.

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Sal declares, as Victor winks at Charles on the way out and gets a middle finger in response. “I’ve got to run out for a half an hour and pick up Charles’ present. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, Logan. I’m sorry I’ve been such a terrible host but Charles will make up for it I’m sure. If you ask nicely he might even make you one of his killer martinis.”

And then Sal and Victor are gone, leaving Charles and Logan standing alone in the study, staring at one another in strained, awkward silence.

“Listen Charles, I didn’t--”

“It’s been a long time, I wasn’t—”

They both stop abruptly, and Charles starts to laugh, easing some of the tension that’s been building since he first walked into the room. Logan takes a moment to really look at Charles now, without an audience, to absorb all the differences in the man he’s become from the boy he knew six years ago.

The last time Logan saw him Charles was short and coltish, his nose too big for his face and his bones practically sticking out of his ribs. He isn’t much taller now than what Logan remembers, but his shoulders are wider and torso thicker, with lean muscles hidden under his dress shirt and rolled up sleeves. His cheeks too have lost their sunken look, though his eyes are still as blue and discerning as ever.

Charles looks healthy, and happy here with Sal, and Logan already knows he doesn’t want to jeopardize that life, whatever past they briefly shared, or how he might feel about the kid now.

“I didn’t know it was you,” he manages to say, as Charles wanders over to minibar in the corner, and pours two glasses of expensive looking Scotch. “When Victor told me about the job. I had no idea…I didn’t know.”

“I gathered,” Charles answers, and hands him a drink. “I certainly didn’t expect to see you here today. You…you look good, Logan.”

He downs the proffered Scotch with not much more than a grimace, his eyes drifting involuntarily to Charles’ mouth as the kid takes a slow sip and licks his lips. Memories come rushing back to Logan unbidden, of the way those lips taste, and the sounds they make; the expression on Charles’ face with Logan buried inside of him, moaning his name.

“I don’t have to take the job,” he offers, as Charles leans against the desk and crosses his ankles, his eyes never leaving Logan’s face. “You don’t have to worry, I’m not going to say anything about…you know. Before.”

Charles grins, the same impish smile he used to give Logan when he found him particularly amusing. “Save your white knight impression for someone who needs it,” Charles teases. “Sal knows where I came from; that I used to be an underage prostitute living in the streets. It might make things a touch less awkward if he didn’t know that we’ve had sex. But honestly, whatever you’re thinking, don’t. If you really want the job, it’s yours.”

It seems a little too easygoing, Charles’ response, considering his initial reaction to seeing Logan and his insistence on hiding their acquaintance from Sal. “Are you sure?” he pushes, “you don’t have to hire me if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Logan, I’m sure,” Charles insists, waving away Logan’s concerns. “It was a long time ago, and it wasn’t…it didn’t mean anything. Let’s pretend it never happened alright? And we can just start over?”

He should say no, and walk out the door, every cell in his body telling him that it’s a bad idea to stay. That Logan can’t act as though he hasn’t thought about Charles off and on for the past six years; that he’d always hoped to see him again someday.

Instead Logan says, “Alright, if that’s what you want, kid,” to Charles’ pleased smile, and tells himself that it doesn’t hurt, being a thing so easily discarded.

He downs the rest of his drink in silence, and watches as Charles paces comfortably – confidently - around the rather spacious room. It’s obvious that this place is as much his home as it is Sal’s, and Logan finds himself growing ever more intrigued at their relationship, clearly much more than the ‘arrangement’ Victor had led him to believe.

Charles sets his empty glass down and licks his lips, his eyes darting around the room as Logan continues to stare unashamedly. The tension that had previously dissipated is slowly making its way back, from awkward uncertainty to something thicker, an almost tangible electricity in the air.

“You…how are you?” Charles asks, the skin under his collar flushing pink when he catches Logan’s unwavering gaze. He tugs a little nervously on his shirt sleeve and clears his throat, and then he’s looking up at Logan again with a teasing curve on his lips, one that is deliberately provocative and obviously fake.

“Did you miss me?” he continues, a taunt, as he slowly makes his way across the room and into Logan’s personal space, hand sliding up to grip a bicep and squeeze. This is Charles as Logan has never seen him; coy and yet so _obvious,_ using his sexuality shamelessly and skillfully to distract and seduce.

Logan’s body might be screaming for more, to reach out and _touch_ and _take_ as he’s done so fleetingly in the past. But his mind slams that door closed with a resounding _no_ , his temper flaring at the idea of being manipulated this way, by a Charles that’s clearly messing with him for a purpose he doesn’t know.

He takes a step back, Charles’ hand slipping off his arm as he snaps, “Was I supposed to? After you just disappeared without a word?”

The grin slips off Charles’ face, his expression morphing into discomfort, and guilt. “I left a note,” he says, even though they’re both keenly aware of the feeble excuse. “I…it’s not like I could stay with you forever, Logan. You were nice, and I appreciated the help, but—”

“But I wasn’t rich enough for you, not like your sugar daddy here. I couldn’t buy you fancy clothes and take you on vacations and pamper your expensive tastes? So you just left, and I didn’t even warrant a good-bye in person?”

It surprises them both, the vehemence with which Logan spits out the words, accusations that he knows are not at all fair given their lack of any real understanding or acknowledgment. And Charles is quick to snarl back, his hands clenching into fists as he responds with a harsh and bitter laugh.

“Is that what you think? That you deserved a teary and grateful good-bye? Were you expecting a thank-you blow job too? Was my ass not enough for you the night before? What else do you think I owed you, Logan? A man I met in the back alley of a bar, who paid me to suck his dick and threw me out after he took my virginity?”

Shame, hot and visceral comes rushing back at the reminder thrown in his face, of his callous behavior towards Charles in the early days of their acquaintance. But it’s not enough to make him back down and apologize, because Logan doesn’t know how to do ‘feelings’, and all that pent up anger is just pushing him now to lash out and fight.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he snarls, taking a step towards Charles, crowding him back against the edge of the desk. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know what kind of man I was and that I didn’t do exactly what you wanted me to do. You offered and I paid, just like all the other men you fucked. At least I’m honest about it; I don’t couch it in all this bullshit make-belief, pretend you’re in some kind of real relationship when he’s doing the exact same thing but in nicer clothes. Paying to fuck you.”

For a moment Charles looks stunned, as though he can’t believe the vitriol that’s pouring out of Logan’s mouth. There’s a flash of hurt that makes Logan feel like a punch in the gut, and then Charles is shoving him hard by the lapels of his suit jacket, his face a riot of emotion.

“You don’t know a damn thing about Sal!” he shouts, and Logan curls his hands around Charles’ fists though he doesn’t try to push him away. “And you sure as hell don’t know a damn thing about me! How dare you! How dare you show up here out of the blue and act like you have any right to judge me! You think--”

“You’re right, I _don’t_ know anything about you!” Logan hisses, and something about his voice, or the expression on his face makes Charles stop and stare like he’s suddenly sprouted two heads. “I didn’t know where you went after you just up and left! I didn’t know if you had someplace to go, or where you were going to live, or if you were going to have to keep turning tricks in dark alleys for your next fucking meal! I didn’t know if someone was gonna try and hurt you again, and I wouldn’t know about it, and I couldn’t keep you safe! For fuck’s sakes I didn’t even know your last name, Charles! And all these years you’ve been here, with _him_ and I just—”

He’s not expecting it, for Charles to yank him forward and drag him into a bruising kiss, his hands moving to grip Logan’s hair just shy of too tight. It knocks the breath out of him, those lips he’s been dreaming about still so plush and soft, as he shoves him back and onto the desk with a groan. He wraps his arms around Charles and pushes between his thighs, and Charles moans, letting Logan plunder his mouth until they’re both panting for air.

“I haven’t,” Charles whispers, as Logan peppers his face and neck with kisses, trying to taste every inch of his skin. “I haven’t been here all this time. I only met Sal a couple of years ago, I was--”

They both hear it at the same time, the front door opening and voices filtering in, and Charles practically knocks him over in his hurry to get away, hopping off the desk and making his way across the room to stand by the window. He looks flushed, his lips red and puffy, and Logan wonders if he’s about to get thrown out of the penthouse by his own brother.

He manages to straighten his jacket and tie as Charles smooths his shirt and runs a hand through his hair, before there’s the expected knock on the office door and Sal is ducking into the room with an easy smile. The man’s eyes slowly drift between Logan and Charles, taking them in, and then he says, expression unchanging, “Everything alright?”

“Fine,” Charles answers, body relaxing when Sal crosses the room and wraps an arm around his waist. “We were just going over my schedule.”

“Good, good,” Sal says, looking genuinely pleased. He gives Charles a quick kiss on the cheek and then turns to Logan with a grin. “Then I guess we’re all settled then. Welcome aboard, Mr. Howlett.”


	3. Getting Re-acquainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Sal goes on his business trip, Logan and Charles get re-acquainted.

True to his word, Sal adds Logan to his staff almost immediately, outfitting him with a new wardrobe of expensive suits from his own custom tailor and keys to a shiny green Jaguar worth more than his entire year’s salary. For the first few days he does very little actual work, with Charles spending almost all of his spare time with Sal, and Victor ferrying them around to whatever fancy places rich people like to frequent; it’s not until Sal leaves on his business trip four days later, that Logan finally has the chance to be alone with Charles again.

But the Charles that greets him on an early Monday morning, coffee and laptop bag in hand is not the same one who kissed him so feverishly – so _passionately_ – on his lover’s desk; no _this_ Charles is polite and distant and a stranger once more, determined to keep Logan at arm’s length without any warning or explanation. It’s puzzling and infuriating and yet not terribly surprising, though Logan would be lying if he didn’t admit to being more than a little hurt and pissed off.

They settle into a routine that is tenable if not quite comfortable, with Charles spending much of his time in classes and the library when he’s not holed up in the penthouse, studying and doing his course work. Logan’s role is simply to ferry Charles to and from Columbia at his request, which leads to only the briefest of interactions, a handful of times a day. It should please him immensely – and would under any other circumstances, to work barely an hour or two daily for what he’s getting paid – instead it makes Logan antsy, and discontent, and burning with a barely contained desire to spend more time with Charles.

As the first week moves into the second, and Charles’ busy schedule continues unabated, Logan begins to understand much better, Sal’s reasons for hiring him on. Charles is so focused on his studies that he rarely remembers to eat a proper meal, sustaining himself on a diet of coffee, energy drink and cup noodles for days on end. Looking around at the immaculate kitchen, gleaming with marble and top of the line stainless steel appliances, Logan can only shake his head and sigh.

“Here,” he says, dropping a bag of Chinese take-out on the coffee table late one night, dragging Charles’ attention from his laptop, where he’s been typing furiously for the past four hours non-stop. “You need to take a break and eat.”

Charles stares up at him, uncomprehending for a few moments before he rubs his eyes tiredly and sets his laptop down on the floor. He stretches his arms above his head and groans, peering up at Logan from beneath his mop of unruly hair before swinging his legs off the couch. “Is it dinner time already?”

Logan snorts. “Kid, you missed lunch _and_ dinner. It’s almost 10 o’clock. Now eat something before you starve yourself and pass out.”

“Oh please.” Charles laughs, even as he grabs the bag and starts ripping it open, pulling the containers out one by one. “I used to go for days without eating.  This is nothing.”

“Not a good example,” Logan replies, unable to hide his amusement even with his sarcastic tone. “Why don’t you guys have a cook?”

Charles shrugs, handing Logan the vegetable stir fry before attacking his Kung Pao chicken with a plastic fork. “Never needed one. Sal loves to cook, and he’s really good at it too.”

“And you? Tell me you know how to make more than cup noodles.”

It’s Charles’ turn to snort, grin spreading across his face as he leans over to pluck a piece of broccoli out of Logan’s container. “Sorry to disappoint but I can’t cook at all. It’s not something they bother to teach you at stripper school.”

Logan coughs, swallowing around his mouthful of noodles and says, completely poleaxed, “Stripper school?”

Charles starts to laugh, completely free and unguarded, and it warms Logan’s insides like a toasty fire on a winter’s day. “Well no, it wasn’t a school exactly…I worked at a strip club for a while and they taught me some pretty good moves.”

“Jesus.” Logan scrubs his face, the image of Charles as he remembers him – wide blue eyes and awkward limbs, and so fucking _young_ – twirling haphazardly around a stripper pole. “You…no way. You were all skin and bones back then. Who’d have hired you to dance? I call bullshit.”

He gets a raised eyebrow and a saucy grin. “I’ll have you know I was _amazing._ ”

Logan shakes his head, returning Charles’ smile with a challenging smirk. “Really? Prove it.”

Before Logan even has time to realize what the fuck he’s saying, Charles is already up and on his feet, stalking over to the wall and pushing a series of buttons on the media panel. The room fills instantly with a rhythmic _boom boom_ of something sultry, followed by another push of a button and the lights above them going dim. Gone is the harried student too exhausted to eat, replaced by a man standing provocatively in his place, entirely comfortable in his own skin.

Somewhere, deep down he knows this is a bad idea; it’s hard enough to be around Charles without constantly wanting to _touch_ , to push him down and fuck him against any available surface. And now he’s standing in front of Logan, swaying to the music and rolling his hips, and there’s nothing he can do but grit his teeth and will away the erection that’s already making itself known. 

It doesn’t work.

He keeps his hands clenched tightly at his sides as Charles kicks off his slacks, revealing a pair of skin tight boxer briefs. There’s nothing really inherently sexy about it, what he’s wearing – not the white underwear or the blue long sleeved shirt that he’s slowly unbuttoning – revealing all that pale skin bit by tantalizing bit. But Logan _has_ seen what’s underneath, and tasted it long ago, and it all comes back to him in a rush of sensory overload; he’s in his lumpy bed again, licking that pink hole, prepping Charles with his fingers as he writhes and moans for more.

“Charles, I don’t think—” is all he manages to say, before Logan finds himself with a lap full of semi-naked flesh, that firm ass grinding down on his rock hard prick. He hisses – and Charles lets out an absolutely indecent groan – and Logan thinks he might die if he doesn’t get to touch _right the fuck now_. Instead he closes his eyes and leans back against the couch, and tries to remember why he’s here—

He’s here to do a _job_ , and it’s _not_ to fuck the boss’s boy toy.

Then again, he’s never pretended to be a good man, nor a particularly moral one.

That barely present self-control is completely shattered in the next moment, when Charles turns around and straddles him, pushing him flush against the cushions, hands moving to grip the back of his head.

“So what do you think?” he murmurs, a sly, challenging smile curling his lips. “Sexy enough for you, hm?”

There’s really only one way to answer him, Logan thinks, and _does_ , grabbing the back of Charles’ neck and hauling him in for a searing, toe curling kiss. Charles practically melts in his arms as Logan devours him, hands clutching his ass as he licks and nips every inch of flesh he can reach, cock so fucking hard it’s going to bust right out of his jeans. And all lingering thoughts of right or wrong fly straight out the window when he puts his mouth on a nipple and Charles keens; he wants to hear that noise coming out of Charles’ mouth again and again, the way he remembers it so clearly in his dreams.

“Logan,” Charles pants, and he looks a little dazed and flushed, so fucking beautiful that Logan has to taste those lips again. He shrugs impatiently out of his shirt, and lets Charles help with his jeans, sliding them down with his underwear ‘til they’re tangled in a ball at his feet. Somewhere in that mess Charles manages to lose his boxers too – though he’s barely gone long enough to notice before he’s pressing down again, rubbing his bare ass against Logan’s erection.

He’s going to _die_ , because Charles Xavier is going to kill him.

Somehow lube miraculously appears and gets shoved into his hand, but Logan doesn’t give a shit where it came from or why it’s handy – he just squirts it all over his fingers as Charles rocks against him, whispering ‘ _please, please, please_ ’ against his neck. And it’s so fucking tight around his finger it makes _Logan_ gasp; it’s like their first time again, bringing up the same animalistic urge he had then to fuck Charles raw, to take and take and _take_ because Charles is _his_ and no one else’s—

Instead he gentles his thrust and pushes in a second finger, and that makes Charles groan like _he’s_ dying, like Logan’s giving him everything he’s ever wanted by fucking him open. He could do this for hours, or _days_ even; Charles on his lap, his fingers spreading him wide, pressing against his prostate until he’s gasping and coming all over Logan’s chest---

Climaxing in Logan’s arms, where he belongs.

But Charles as he is now is not the inexperienced boy he remembers, who let Logan ravish him without consideration for his own pleasure. No, _this_ Charles is determined to take what he wants, slipping a condom onto Logan with skillful hands. And he manages to be almost graceful in the way he moves, positioning himself, sinking down until he furls open and Logan’s cock is pushing into him, filling him up, so hot and tight and absolutely perfect.

“Fuuuuck… _Charles_.”

They move together, and it’s rough, and a little clumsy, as Charles rocks up and Logan chases him, thrusting his hips and bottoming out; Logan just wants to stay buried balls deep in that ass, and never let go. Impossibly, he manages to keep from coming right then and there, with Charles riding him, head thrown back in ecstasy, cock disappearing as he takes every unyielding inch then cries out for more.

And Logan is only too happy to give it to him.

He lets Charles dictate the pace for as long as he can, just relishing the way he tastes, and feels, his mouth on Charles and his dick pressed deep inside that gorgeous ass. But eventually, even that’s not enough to sooth what’s been unleashed; he flips Charles over and onto his back, and starts pounding him like he’s wanted to every moment of every day since their unexpected reunion. And Charles just takes it like he’s born for it – for _Logan_ – his legs pinned practically behind his head as Logan fucks and fucks and fucks into him while he keens.

“Ughhh….Logan!”

Charles comes, just like that, clenching down hard as Logan keeps pummeling him, toes curling and back arching as he spurts all over his stomach. Logan manages a few more thrusts before he too goes over the edge, biting back a harsh cry, spilling what feels like a gallon of come inside Charles’ lax and unresisting body.

He rolls them slightly onto their sides, and then flops half on top of a panting Charles, burying his nose against his cheek.

“Well,” Charles says, as he strokes the back of Logan’s head, chest still heaving from the exertion. “That was…unexpected.”

Logan snorts. “Was it? Was it really?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not. But we probably shouldn’t do it again…right?”

“No. Probably not, Chuck.”

\----

Logan carries him upstairs to the spare bedroom, and fucks him twice more that night.


	4. All Good Things...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Logan tell each other their stories. And Sal's return throws their quiet bliss into disarray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's important to note that I've always meant for this to be a trilogy, with Part 3 being told from Charles' POV (and set another 5 years in the future). So this is AN end, but not THE end. :D
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Reference to child abuse with allusion to sexual abuse of a minor.

They have a _lot_ of sex.

They fuck in the bed and on the floor, and up against the wall-to-ceiling windows in the guest bedroom, where Logan stays – along with Charles – after that first night. They fuck in the living room and the den, on the kitchen counter and the dining room table; there’s no room or surface of the penthouse off-limits except one – the master bedroom that Charles shares with his absent lover. It’s an agreement unspoken from the beginning, their decision to ignore the obvious ‘elephant in the room’, though it does little to mitigate Sal’s ever looming specter over their otherwise blissful reunion.

There’s not a lot of talking for the first few days afterwards, with Charles still busy with exams and final reports, wrapping up his last year of undergrad at Columbia University. Logan gleans just enough to know that he’s majoring in Genetics and planning to continue onwards for a PhD, but the rest of it is quite beyond his knowledge and interest; he’s just glad that Charles had the opportunity to go back to school, and use his big brain for something more life affirming than turning tricks on the street.

It also alleviates the sting a little, the underlying resentment he’s been trying to suppress since his arrival here. More than anything, Logan wishes that he could’ve been the one to help get Charles off the street all those years ago; for Logan and not _Sal_ to have given him the home and the bright future he deserves. But he tells himself that it’s enough that Charles is happy, and that they’re finally together like he’d always wanted.

Not that he’d realized it – or allowed himself to even think about it – until now.

He tries very hard not to think too much about what lies ahead.

A decision, and most probably - heartbreak.

And it’s likelier than not that the heartbreak will be his own.

\----

“You never did tell me, where you went after you left.”

They’re in the kitchen, and Logan is chopping vegetables for the stew he’s making for dinner, while Charles is typing away on his fancy laptop, nursing a giant mug of Earl Grey. He looks up at Logan and squints, and then leans back on his stool and rubs his eyes.

“I assume you meant ‘after I left your apartment’,” Charles replies. He flips the lid of this laptop down, and props his elbows on top of it with a sigh. “A little while before I…well, I met a man who asked me to stay with him. He owned the nightclub where I’d been a few times, picking up customers. He offered to take care of me if I stopped.”

Logan scoffs, “Stopped fucking other people, you mean. I take it _he_ still wanted to fuck you?”

Charles shrugs, and takes a sip out of his mug, choosing to ignore his snark. “Everything has a price, Logan, as we both know. I wasn’t really in a position to pass it up… I thought it was better, if I was going to fuck for money that it was just one guy, you know? Instead of twenty, or a hundred different ones. At least I had a place to live, and I never had to worry about my next meal. It was good. I mean, he liked some kinky shit, but it was no big deal. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Fucking pervert,” Logan growls, “what’d he do? Did he hit you?”

“What? No! He just, liked being watched. He’d fuck me in one of the VIP rooms and invite a friend to sit in and jerk off to it.” Charles laughs. “Like I said, nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“That does  _not_  make it okay. I mean, you were just a  _kid_ , what the hell did he think--”

“You’re not serious, are you?You met me in a dark alley behind a dingy old bar and _paid_ me to suck your dick! You didn’t give a shit about my age then, so don’t pretend to be some bastion of morality now, Logan. It doesn’t suit you.”

He tosses the rest of the mushrooms in the pot, and slams the knife down on the counter. “Oh yeah? Well,  _fuck you_ , Xavier.”

Charles laughs, hopping off the bar stool and circling the island to throw his arms around Logan’s waist, nuzzling his back as Logan studiously ignores him. “Come on now, don’t be mad! I know you mean well, but I promise, I was fine…I’m here now in one piece, aren’t I?”

Logan isn’t mad, he wants to say – at least he’s not mad at _Charles_ , who squirms and wriggles until he’s managed to turn Logan all the way around, laying his head against his chest, arms still wrapped around his waist. No, Logan is pissed at _himself_ for being just as bad as all the others who took advantage of someone so young and desperate; he’s no better than the guy who owned the bar and paid to fuck Charles in front of his friends.

He’s certainly no better than _Sal_ , who at least gave Charles a fucking palace to live in and an expensive education to boot.

He didn’t do anything but take advantage of a kid who had zero options, and then had to gall to feel like the injured party when Charles left him for a better offer.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he answers, and kisses the top of Charles’ head, squeezing his arms around him a little tighter as he sighs. “I worried about you, after you left. Wondered what you were doing. I hated not knowing because I wanted you to be safe, and that I couldn’t help you ‘cause I didn’t know where you went.” He pauses, until Charles looks up at him with a questioning glance. “Were you happy? I mean, at least some of the time?”

Charles squints a little, and shakes his head. “Why are you asking me this? Does it matter?”

He doesn’t know why he’s asking either, but suddenly, it’s the most important fucking thing in the world to Logan. “Humor me. It would make me feel less like an asshole to know you haven’t been miserable all these years. ‘Cause I feel like I failed you. I wished I’d done more for you, that’s all.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.” Charles pushes away and picks up the ladle, stirring the stew and doing a quick taste test with his pinky finger. Busy work, so he doesn’t have to look at Logan’s face. “I never asked you to feel responsible for me. You were…I’d like to think we were friends, and we helped each other for a little while. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, or think I need saving because I don’t.” He turns then, and glares at Logan with a hard glint in his eye. “I told you, I can take care of myself. I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” Logan argues, feeling his temper rise at the harsh rebuke. “Is it so hard to believe that I cared about you? That I liked you? That I wanted good things for you?”

“Actually it is,” Charles snaps, surprising Logan with the ferocity and the barely controlled resentment radiating from his entire body. “I’ve learned the hard way that everybody wants _something_ , no matter what they say to the contrary. And that what they usually want from me is a good fuck and not much more. So you’ll have to excuse me if I wasn’t more considerate of your _feelings,_ Logan, or what deep wells of kindness and concern you were hiding that whole time you were snarling at me or pushing me away.”

“That’s not fair—”

“Damn right it’s not fair! Life isn’t fair! What is it that you want from me exactly? The truth? Or absolution? You want to know if I was _happy_? What the fuck do you think? If I was happy would I have been out on the street? Fucking strangers for a few measly dollars?”

“Charles—”

“No.”

The word hits like a punch in the gut, and the shock of it wipes away all traces of his own mounting anger. Logan can only look on mutely as Charles grabs his laptop and yanks the plug out of the wall, before turning abruptly to make his exit.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he says, stopping at the threshold between the kitchen and the hallway, his back to Logan. “And I don’t know anything about you. I think maybe it’s better just to keep it that way, don’t you think?”

And then Charles is gone, disappearing around the corner and out of sight, leaving Logan both confused and disappointed.

\----

Logan’s first instinct is to pull away.

That’s what he did six years ago, whenever he found himself thinking about the kid, who’d managed to get under his skin after only a couple of quick blowjobs in a back alley. He would think about the kid’s mouth, wrapped around his prick, and the way he swallowed Logan’s come so greedily - focusing on his physical needs instead of the kid’s big sad eyes and likely sob story. There was no risk of getting attached if he just didn’t _care_ , and caring had never been Logan’s strong suit anyway.

It wasn’t until Charles had vanished that he realized his folly; pretending didn’t make a lick of difference to how much it hurt, and he’d made the kid think he was nothing – _meant_ nothing to Logan – when in fact the exact opposite was true.

Charles made him _feel_ again, the first time in a long time…longer than Logan wanted to think about or remember.

So he pushes the impulse down now, the one that’s telling him to cut bait and run, and dutifully finishes making the stew.

He’s not going to shy away from it this time – whatever _it_ turns out to be – and he’s not about to let Charles do it either.

\----

“I brought you some dinner.”

He finds Charles in the master bedroom, where he’s been ensconced since their argument earlier in the afternoon. It’s obvious by the surprise on his face that he’d counted on Logan staying away, from the one room in the penthouse where they’d wordlessly deemed off-limits.

“Oh…thank you.”

He unloads the tray’s contents onto the night stand, a hot bowl of beef stew along with a warm dinner roll as Charles fidgets absently on the bed.  Finally, after a few moments of loaded silence he leans forward and takes Logan’s hand.

“Look, I’m sorry about what happened earlier in the kitchen. I don’t know why I said those—”

“Here, eat,” Logan interrupts, handing Charles the bowl and spoon and then sitting next to him on the edge of the bed. “You’ve barely eaten anything all day. It‘s not good for you, you know, skipping meals.”

Charles eyes him with a grin. “Still trying to fatten me up?”

“Always.”

He waits until Charles starts digging in, and smiles at the appreciative groans and enthusiastic nods, watching his lover with barely restrained amusement. It’s been good, this past week and a half of just the two of them here, playing house, giving Logan sufficient reason and opportunity to care for Charles in the way he’s always wanted. But Charles isn’t wrong in that they barely know each other - beyond the most carnal sense of the word - and he wants to change their fragile understanding into something _more;_ maybe something they can even call real and long lasting.

“I had a wife,” he says, and Charles stills, though he doesn’t interrupt as Logan continues, “we were married young. I didn’t have much money, and not much of an education either. It was tough making ends meet but we were pretty happy. We talked a little about maybe having kids someday, and I thought, well, I could enlist and we could save up for it. Start a family once I was done my service.”

He pauses, and Charles reaches for him, squeezing his hand gently. “What happened?”

“She died,” he answers, and squeezes Charles’ hand in return. It’s been years since he’s told anyone about Kayla, and it feels almost like an unburdening, a final acknowledgement of the pain whittled slowly over time into a dull ache. “Car accident, while I was overseas. I didn’t even make it back in time for her funeral.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been terrible.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, swallowing the lump in his throat. “After she died I had no reason to come home. So I stayed away for a long time…until I couldn’t do it anymore. Being a soldier, I mean. Then I came back. Got odd jobs. Met you.”

Charles smiles, just a slight quirk of his lips. “So meeting me is part of your life story too?”

He returns the smile readily, and brushes his thumb across Charles’ bottom lip. “Yeah. A big part.”

That earns him a kiss, which Logan inhales hungrily, and though he wants to continue he also wants Charles to finish the meal he’s been enjoying so much. He pulls away and ignores Charles groan of displeasure, and nudges his bowl again. “Finish your meal. I slaved all day in the kitchen making it. Least you can do is eat it all up.”

“Bossy.”

“You know it.”

They sit together then, enjoying each other’s company, a quiet contentment that permeates as Charles polishes the rest of his stew and the dinner roll without a word. He smiles when Logan hands him the mug – still warm – and leans back against the headboard with a contented sigh, taking unhurried sips of his favorite tea.

And then he starts talking, and doesn’t stop.

He tells Logan about his family – a father who came from old money, who died when he was just eight years old. How his mother remarried a couple of years later, bringing his stepfather and the man’s boorish and bullying son into their lives. A sister, adopted later and as unwanted as Charles, who he loved and adored more than anyone in the entire world. How things went from bad to untenable when his mother died too, and left Charles and his massive inheritance under his stepfather’s control…

How his stepbrother beat him, and his stepfather abused him, no matter how much he tried to stay out of their way.

And then his stepbrother and sister both were sent away to boarding school, leaving Charles alone with a man who clearly had no business being around children.

“So you ran away.”

“I ran away.”

“Why did you—“ he asks, but thinks better of it, because he doesn’t want to give Charles the wrong idea, that he’s blaming him for what that pathetic excuse for a human being did to force him to run.

“Why didn’t I tell anyone? Why did I become a prostitute?” Charles replies with a mirthless chuckle. “He had my father’s money, and could pay people to look away. As for what I did…I couldn’t get a job without ID, and I didn’t want to risk having him track me down and bringing me back. I didn’t have any skills that people would hire me and pay me under the table for, except…”

“I get it.” Logan wants to punch something hard, starting with his own face. 

“Hey,” Charles says, pulling him close, wrapping his arms around Logan and breathing against his chest. “I was glad when I met you. You were the most honest person I’d ever known. That’s what I wanted then. That’s what I _needed_.”

He lets the fight drain out of him slowly, and tightens his arms around Charles. “What happened to your sister?”

“He didn’t give a shit about her, which was obviously a good thing. She stayed in boarding school, and moved out as soon as she graduated. She’s doing well…we’ve been in touch.”

The words are tinged with melancholy, and Logan doesn’t have to guess to know that their sibling relationship hasn’t been the same since Charles left. He hopes for both their sakes that they can put the past behind them, and wonders again how Charles can still be so kind and optimistic after living through so much pain.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers, brushing a kiss against Charles’ temple, before moving to take his lips. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

“I’ll show you real,” Charles teases, and pulls him down onto the bed.

\-----

 They fuck, right there, in Sal’s room and on Sal’s bed, and Logan thinks that something fundamental must have shifted between them; that their confessions have somehow pushed them across some imaginary line, from simple lust to something deeper and so much more complicated. There’s a raw tenderness too in the way that Charles is touching him, fingers cupping his face as they move, soft moans like secrets falling from his bitten red lips. He’s so beautiful it makes Logan’s heart ache, and the urge to have _this_ , to hold on to this moment and make it last is what breaks his silence, the words bursting forth unbidden as Charles stiffens and comes, clenching down and dragging it out of him, body and soul…

“I love you,” he gasps, and falls off the edge.

\----

“I love you,” Charles whispers, much later, their bodies entwined, nuzzling Logan’s neck, voice soft and sad. Words he doesn’t think were meant to be heard, drifting as they had to sleep hours earlier, cradled snugly in each other’s arms.

\----

They don’t say it again, the next day, or the day after.

And then Sal comes home – a few days early, to surprise the lover he’s been missing – and the illusion shatters around them like so much glass.

\----

They try, both of them, to keep their distance and retreat behind their masks - a studious academic, merely tolerating the attention of the man hired to drive him. But what’s done can’t be undone, and Logan can’t just pretend not to see when Sal swoops into the penthouse and draws Charles into a long and heated kiss; can’t pretend not to care when he sets his hands on either side of Charles’ hips, fingers sliding up and under his jumper to touch the tender flesh hidden underneath.

And Charles…

Charles flinches, ever so slightly at Sal’s touch, a movement so minute that anyone could have missed it.

But Logan doesn’t.

And, as it turns out, neither does Sal.

\----

“Come away with me.”

It’s reckless, and not terribly smart, but Logan can’t help but ask; he doesn’t think he can spend another day being Charles’ _driver_ again, and watch him in someone else’s arms. When they’ve been become so much _more_ to one another, and after so much time already spent apart.

“I can’t,” Charles says, and adds, “Sal knows.”

He’s not at all surprised by the revelation; Sal is an intelligent man, with a sharp eye and sharper instincts. And Logan hasn’t exactly been a master of subtlety either, barely able to hide his reaction every time they’ve been in the room together, and Sal touched his young lover with affection, or with obvious desire.

It took every ounce of control he could muster, not to grab the man and drag him away from Charles.

“All the more reason to go. I know I don’t have much to offer, but you’ve just finished your degree, and we can both get new jobs. We can make it work.”

Charles shakes his head. “You don’t understand, Logan. It’s not that simple. Sal is helping me wrestle my inheritance back from Kurt. I can’t just leave in the middle of it. I can’t afford lawyers on my own and I’m not going to let that bastard keep my father’s legacy from me.”

He regrets it, the instant it’s out of his mouth. “Money is that important to you? More important than us?”

“No.” Charles crawls onto his lap, and wraps his arms around Logan’s neck. “But it’s not just about me. There are thousands of people working at my father’s company, and Kurt is driving the business into the ground. My sister deserves a better life than being a cocktail waitress, living in a one bedroom apartment with her new baby. And I have friends, friends I made while I was on the street, people I could help, with my father’s money.”

“We could do it. Save up so we could hire lawyers ourselves. We don’t need Sal.”

 _He_ doesn’t even believe the bullshit he’s spouting, and can only be grateful that Charles doesn’t laugh in face.

But he also doesn’t give Logan an answer.

\----

He fucks Charles on his hands and knees, on the couch in Sal’s office, hard and brutal like the first time, before Logan knew enough to care.

And later, when he pauses outside the master bedroom door, and hears the soft moans, and the creaking of the mattress, he realizes…

…he does have his answer.

  
x

“What is this?”

Logan takes the envelope from Sal’s hand and tears it open, revealing a stack of what looks like an employment contract in his name. Sal watches silently from behind his desk as Logan quickly flips through the pages, and doesn’t flinch when he throws the thing down with a frown.

“There’s an opening in my New York offices for Head of Security. I’d like to offer it to you, along with a significant raise,” Sal explains, his expression carefully neutral. “I think you’ll find the terms to be rather generous.”

Logan shakes his head. “I don’t get it. How do you expect me to drive Charles around if I take this job?”

“I don’t,” Sal answers, leaning back in his leather chair, his dark eyes never leaving Logan’s face. “Because your services as his driver are no longer needed. Charles and I are moving to England…he’ll be working on his PhD at Oxford while I run things from my offices in London.”

He feels completely blindsided by the news, and yet wholly unsurprised; the cynical and angriest part of him had always known that his reunion with Charles was doomed from the start. “When?”

“We leave in three days.”

“Charles–,” he starts, before he has to stop himself and take a deep, calming breath. “Where is he? I want to see him.”

Sal stares at him for a few long moments, his eyes boring into Logan as his lips slowly straighten into a tight frown. “No,” he says, “and I think, Mr. Howlett, that you and I both know that’s it better this way.”

His temper flares despite himself, his hands clenching into fists as he takes a step closer to Sal, looming over him. “You can’t stop me.”

“You’re right, I can’t,” Sal answers, completely unfazed, “and I wouldn’t. Charles has always been free to come and go as he pleases. He makes his choices, and I abide by them. Whatever you think of our arrangement, know that I care about him, and respect his decisions.” And then his expression morphs to something less stern, almost understanding as he adds, “Charles doesn’t want to see you, Logan.”

He barks a laugh, and scrubs his face with both hands, choosing not to think too much about the sympathetic look he’s getting from Sal. “Of course he doesn’t. Why am I not surprised?”

“Will you take the job?” Sal asks, and Logan is so very tempted to say no, to tell the man to fuck off and take his money and his boy toy and shove it up his rich and entitled ass. Instead, he picks up the papers off the desk and gives Sal a smile - one that tastes like bitter ashes.

“Why not? When do I start?” 

\------

Logan starts his new job the same day Charles gets on his plane to England.

He doesn’t see Charles Xavier again until five years later.


End file.
